obsessedasusual

[obsessedasusual]

The angstiest masterpost

angsty.

Angsty family/platonic dialogue

Angsty question prompts #1

Angsty question prompts #2

Angsty question prompts #3

Angsty/fighting dialogue

Concerned/angsty question prompts 

Angsty starters

Angst prompts

Angsty sentence starters #1

Angsty sentence starters #2

Angsty sentence starters #3

Angsty sentence starters #4

Leaving dialogue

Reunion dialogue reactions

Unwilling goodbye + love confession prompts

Trying to make them stay dialogue

Sacrificing dialogue

Amnesia prompts

Amnesia dialogue

Bad luck prompts

Lover being hurt prompts

Break-up dialogue #1

Break-up dialogue #2

Unwanted attention dialogue

Unrequited love dialogue

Drama starting points

Conflict for couples #1

Conflict for couples #2

Conflict for couples #3

Betrayal dialogue

Hiding from horror dialogue

Finding out the truth dialogue

"I'm sorry…" apology starters

Saying I'm sorry…

Apologizing for emotional neglect

Talking it out ideas

Keeping loved ones apart

Ending an argument

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[obsessedasusual]

I am so down hard for this man

“Come sit on my lap and tell me whose blood I should spill.”

Prompt:  “Come sit on my lap and tell me whose blood I should spill”

Pairing: Bishop Losa x younger reader

Warnings: Mention of a black eye with allusions to violence at the hands of a man, older man/younger woman troupe, mention of sexual content, fuck buddies, jealousy, toxicity of you squint

Word count: 607

A/N: The whole older man/younger woman troupe has had an absolute fucking chokehold on me lately 

Keep reading

[obsessedasusual]

YEEEEESSSSSSS

give me a domestic Mayan any day of the week!!!! Hard to believe it’s a 500 word fic bc I SWEAR I’ve imagined the entire next scene in my head

Sugar

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol

With the help of This Prompt List by @creativepromptsforwriting and my trusty Wheel of Names with every character I've ever written for, I'm aiming to write a fic in 500 words or less every day of March. We'll see how far we get!

Prompt: petals

Word Count: 423

A/N: I miss prepping craft projects for my students and somehow we ended up here 😂

You were sitting on the floor, legs tucked underneath the coffee table in your living room while you worked. The television was on but you weren't really paying it any mind as you cut out flower petals from construction paper, preparation for crafts with your students the next day. 

Above the white noise of the television, and the satisfying sound of your scissors gliding through the paper, was the sound of Angel's voice as he vented to you about what had gone down in Templo earlier that afternoon. 

“I swear to god,” he said as he went to the fridge to grab himself a beer, “I wish we were kids so I could dribble his head like a fuckin’ basketball the way I used to.” He popped the cap off the bottle and took a sip. “Bounce that shit right off the floor,” he said as he mimed a dribbling motion with his free hand. He looked over at you. “I think I could still do it.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you kept your eyes trained on the paper in front of you. “Physically? Yeah, you probably could. But do you really think it'd solve anything?”

“Pfft,” he scoffed as he came and stood by the coffee table, neck craned down so he could watch you work. “Knock some brain cells back into place.”

You shook your head again with a knowing smile. “It's like I tell my students– you get more with sugar than–”

“Than you do with shit,” he finished with a sigh. “I know but I don't think I buy that shit, querida.”

You finally looked up at him. “Salt.”

His brows knit in confusion. “What?”

“You get more with sugar than you do with salt, Angel.”

He shook his head. “Nah, I'm pretty sure–”

You set the scissors down and leaned back slightly. “You think I'd say ‘you get more with sugar than you do with shit’ to my students? My elementary students?”

A smile quirked the end of his mouth. “I mean, it's still true.”

You didn't want to laugh but you couldn't help yourself. With a loving roll of your eyes, you motioned for him to come and sit with you. “Come down here and help me out with this, will you?”

He didn't put up a fight as he plopped down beside you. “Tryin’ to distract me,” he said with a smirk. 

You leaned over and pressed a kiss against his jaw before handing him his own pair of scissors. “Sugar instead of salt.”

[obsessedasusual]

Lonely No More - Nine

Bishop Losa x OC Series

Summary: There was never a dull moment, being the only Reyes sister. But between overbearing brothers, being the family peacekeeper, and countless disaster dates, Amalia finds herself wishing she had someone to unwind with after a hectic day. Funnily enough, Bishop Losa wishes for the same thing.

Warnings: swearing, feels, everything MC related really

Note: it's okay I hate me as well :)))

The knock at the door came as Amalia was mid-sip of her second glass of red wine.

After a day of having a door slammed in her face by her younger brother and awkward prolonged eye contact from the man she couldn’t seem to get out of her head, a glass or two of red was more than welcomed.

She sighed quietly and hoped whoever it was would soon leave.

It wasn’t late, Amalia had only just finished cleaning up after dinner and had begun to settle on the sofa with reruns of ‘Say Yes to the Dress’, keen to erase the events from the past few days.

When the second knock came she threw her head back in frustration before pulling herself to stand and answer the door.

Seeing Bishop standing on her front step should have been expected, he was really the only person she knew in this town that bothered to knock, but it still caught her off guard.

He stared at her for a beat before breaking the silence, “Hey.”

He was still dressed in his kutte, having only just left the club. When Amalia peered over his shoulder to the driveway she noted the lack of motorbike, he must have walked from his place which would explain the silent arrival.

She looked back to him, replying with a soft, “Hi.”

Bishop looked at his feet and cleared his throat before speaking again, “Can I come in?”

“Uh… yeah sure.” She stepped back and opened the door further for him, allowing him into her home.

This wasn’t how she saw her night going. She had just finished compartmentalising everything going on in her life right now and had come to the conclusion that she and Bishop were just an equally lonely pair, whos paths crossed unexpectedly for a short time and they were going to revert back to how their relationship was a couple of months prior - essentially nonexistent. And she was totally okay with that. Absolutely. Cool as a cucumber. 

Lie.

She wasn’t sure when she’d grown so fond of the older man, and it hurt to think that he didn’t feel the same.

Amalia followed to where Bishop stood awkwardly near the dining table, eyes anywhere but her.

“Could I uh, do you want a drink?” She offered helplessly. He shook his head, eyes on the carpet beneath him.

“No, I uh… I came to apologise,” he looked at her then, seeing how his words caught the Reyes sister off guard, “Been busy with the club and ah, time got away from me.”

Amalia nodded silently, not knowing what to say. He was the one turning up on her doorstep, he could do the talking. Admittedly it was a childish response.

Bishop continued at the silence, “I’m sorry for not reaching out sooner.”

“It’s okay.” Amalia mumbled. It’s not like she reached out either.

The President shook his head at her response, “Nah, it’s not, querida. I know the other night when I left… I should’ve reached out.”

It was clear that this conversation was making him uncomfortable, Amalia felt the exact same. This was uncharted territory for them. Hell - just over a month ago they were merely friendly acquaintances. It was crazy, how their friendship grew so fast. And it was about to derail even faster by the sound of this conversation.

She sighed and looked around the room, “Bishop look. It’s okay, I get it.” He looked at her quizzingly as she continued, “It was just a… a thing that happened. While we were messing around. I understand that’s all it was.”

Bishop studied her for a moment, remaining silent as he waited for her to continue speaking.

The red wine had started to infiltrate her system by now, and Amalia could feel herself loosening up and letting words fall more freely.

“I mean, look at us!” she gestured between them with a weak smile, “You’re President of an outlaw MC and I’m the communications lead for a building company. We don’t exactly have a lot in common.” 

Everything Amalia was saying was four days worth of pent up emotion. Did she mean all of it? No. But history had taught her that it was easier to be the rejector than the rejectee, “And then, there’s the whole thing with my brothers. Could you imagine if they found out? What a mess that would be.”

If Bishop disagreed he did a good job at hiding it, choosing to remain silent as Amalia rambled away.

She finally reigned it in, stopping herself from digging a deeper hole, “No hard feelings, Bish. Promise.”

After a moment of silence he repeated, “No hard feelings, querida,” eyes locked on hers, “I’ll uh - I’ll leave you to your night.”

Amalia nodded, “Okay.”

He made his way back to the front door and stared at her for a moment longer, “Okay.” He repeated, giving her a small smile and leaving her house.

Well that wasn’t awkward at all.

—

Bishop sulked the second her front door closed behind him.

We don’t exactly have a lot in common.

Did that really matter? Was having a lot in common with a person the make or break of a relationship?

He turned back toward her house when he reached the letterbox, catching her shadow moving across the living room. 

On each of the past few days Bishop had found himself staring intently at his phone, either waiting for it to alert him of a new message or in the hope he’d finally rip the Band-Aid off and call the subject of his infatuation.

He should’ve reached out. He regretted that now more than ever.

But this was good, he supposed. It’s better he know how she feels before he attempted to pursue anything further with her.

Sighing, he turned and started the short walk home.

[obsessedasusual]

Lonely No More - Nine

Bishop Losa x OC Series

Summary: There was never a dull moment, being the only Reyes sister. But between overbearing brothers, being the family peacekeeper, and countless disaster dates, Amalia finds herself wishing she had someone to unwind with after a hectic day. Funnily enough, Bishop Losa wishes for the same thing.

Warnings: swearing, feels, everything MC related really

Note: it's okay I hate me as well :)))

The knock at the door came as Amalia was mid-sip of her second glass of red wine.

After a day of having a door slammed in her face by her younger brother and awkward prolonged eye contact from the man she couldn’t seem to get out of her head, a glass or two of red was more than welcomed.

She sighed quietly and hoped whoever it was would soon leave.

It wasn’t late, Amalia had only just finished cleaning up after dinner and had begun to settle on the sofa with reruns of ‘Say Yes to the Dress’, keen to erase the events from the past few days.

When the second knock came she threw her head back in frustration before pulling herself to stand and answer the door.

Seeing Bishop standing on her front step should have been expected, he was really the only person she knew in this town that bothered to knock, but it still caught her off guard.

He stared at her for a beat before breaking the silence, “Hey.”

He was still dressed in his kutte, having only just left the club. When Amalia peered over his shoulder to the driveway she noted the lack of motorbike, he must have walked from his place which would explain the silent arrival.

She looked back to him, replying with a soft, “Hi.”

Bishop looked at his feet and cleared his throat before speaking again, “Can I come in?”

“Uh… yeah sure.” She stepped back and opened the door further for him, allowing him into her home.

This wasn’t how she saw her night going. She had just finished compartmentalising everything going on in her life right now and had come to the conclusion that she and Bishop were just an equally lonely pair, whos paths crossed unexpectedly for a short time and they were going to revert back to how their relationship was a couple of months prior - essentially nonexistent. And she was totally okay with that. Absolutely. Cool as a cucumber. 

Lie.

She wasn’t sure when she’d grown so fond of the older man, and it hurt to think that he didn’t feel the same.

Amalia followed to where Bishop stood awkwardly near the dining table, eyes anywhere but her.

“Could I uh, do you want a drink?” She offered helplessly. He shook his head, eyes on the carpet beneath him.

“No, I uh… I came to apologise,” he looked at her then, seeing how his words caught the Reyes sister off guard, “Been busy with the club and ah, time got away from me.”

Amalia nodded silently, not knowing what to say. He was the one turning up on her doorstep, he could do the talking. Admittedly it was a childish response.

Bishop continued at the silence, “I’m sorry for not reaching out sooner.”

“It’s okay.” Amalia mumbled. It’s not like she reached out either.

The President shook his head at her response, “Nah, it’s not, querida. I know the other night when I left… I should’ve reached out.”

It was clear that this conversation was making him uncomfortable, Amalia felt the exact same. This was uncharted territory for them. Hell - just over a month ago they were merely friendly acquaintances. It was crazy, how their friendship grew so fast. And it was about to derail even faster by the sound of this conversation.

She sighed and looked around the room, “Bishop look. It’s okay, I get it.” He looked at her quizzingly as she continued, “It was just a… a thing that happened. While we were messing around. I understand that’s all it was.”

Bishop studied her for a moment, remaining silent as he waited for her to continue speaking.

The red wine had started to infiltrate her system by now, and Amalia could feel herself loosening up and letting words fall more freely.

“I mean, look at us!” she gestured between them with a weak smile, “You’re President of an outlaw MC and I’m the communications lead for a building company. We don’t exactly have a lot in common.” 

Everything Amalia was saying was four days worth of pent up emotion. Did she mean all of it? No. But history had taught her that it was easier to be the rejector than the rejectee, “And then, there’s the whole thing with my brothers. Could you imagine if they found out? What a mess that would be.”

If Bishop disagreed he did a good job at hiding it, choosing to remain silent as Amalia rambled away.

She finally reigned it in, stopping herself from digging a deeper hole, “No hard feelings, Bish. Promise.”

After a moment of silence he repeated, “No hard feelings, querida,” eyes locked on hers, “I’ll uh - I’ll leave you to your night.”

Amalia nodded, “Okay.”

He made his way back to the front door and stared at her for a moment longer, “Okay.” He repeated, giving her a small smile and leaving her house.

Well that wasn’t awkward at all.

—

Bishop sulked the second her front door closed behind him.

We don’t exactly have a lot in common.

Did that really matter? Was having a lot in common with a person the make or break of a relationship?

He turned back toward her house when he reached the letterbox, catching her shadow moving across the living room. 

On each of the past few days Bishop had found himself staring intently at his phone, either waiting for it to alert him of a new message or in the hope he’d finally rip the Band-Aid off and call the subject of his infatuation.

He should’ve reached out. He regretted that now more than ever.

But this was good, he supposed. It’s better he know how she feels before he attempted to pursue anything further with her.

Sighing, he turned and started the short walk home.

[obsessedasusual]

New Zealand Mayans fans!!!!!!

Does anyone know where I can watch the first few seasons of Mayans???? Neon has only has the last couple and I’m desperate for an HD rewatch😭😭

[obsessedasusual]

Sulem Calderon as Gaby MAYANS M.C.

[obsessedasusual]

Twenty-Fourth Day of Gift-Giving

Twenty-Four Touches

Softly getting hold of the other’s hand, afraid to make a mistake

A casual touch on the shoulder to acknowledge them

Foreheads pressed together, a silent way to say “I’m here”

A gentle hand holding the other’s neck while staring into their eyes

Whispering, lips almost touching the ear

A quick brush of hands, almost unnoticeable

Tracing the other’s lips with their finger

An arm sneaking around a waist, holding them close

Pressing their face into the other’s neck, hiding from the world

A hand in the other’s hair, not quite grabbing it

Sighing into the kiss, melting together at last

A swift kiss to the other’s cheek

Brushing away an unruly lock of hair

A firm handshake, professionally at first, but a second to long

Gently kissing the other’s knuckles

A tender hug, just staying together for a while

Hands rubbing together to warm them up

A firm hand grabbing the other’s elbow to guide them

Feeling for the other’s pules with their lips

A quick kiss on the crown of their hair

Sitting on the other’s lap, being hugged from behind

A slow dance, entangled with each other

Cold feet warming each other up under the blanket

A gentle kiss on the forehead, a sweet goodbye

24 Days of Gift-Giving

[obsessedasusual]

You don’t get to choose Your old man fixations.. one day you’re living and the next ur possessed and insane forever

[obsessedasusual]

[obsessedasusual]

don't fucking interrupt me when i'm reading my x reader fics it's rude

[obsessedasusual]

Hello I’m bringing this back bc I just saw it has over 2000 notes and I have no idea when that happened?!?!?!

Seriously had no idea lollllll

Anyway cheers to my first fic to hit that milestone!!!!!!

We’re Only Human - Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

xReader

Summary: Jake Seresin is many things, but above all else he just wants to be loved.

Warnings: swearing, sad!jake, insecurity

Note: 1.8k - ITS SAD BOI HOURS OVER HERE BESTIES!! I haven’t posted in the longest time and I finally finished one of my many (many) wips during my lunch break - best I post it now before I just, don’t.

Read Part Two here!

Jake Seresin was many things.

He was a respected, decorated naval aviator who had truly found his life’s calling up in the skies, high above the clouds. When you had first met him, you’d found how much he loved his career endearing and even refreshing. He had described to you the feeling of adrenaline that hit from taking off the runway when you’re the one at the controls, you could do nothing but smile at how animated he was as he talked.

He was an early bird. You put it down to the Navy in him if you had to guess. He was always awake before you, sometimes at downright ungodly hours. He’d leave you with a soft kiss to your shoulder when he rose from the bed as quietly as he could, smiling fondly at you as you cozied further into the warm duvet.

He was protective. That was probably the one trait about the pilot that hadn’t surprised you when you started seeing each other. Someone throws you off balance while making your way through a packed bar? Jake’s there to keep you on your feet while shooting daggers at the perpetrator. Being talked over while you’re trying to politely place your order? Don’t even worry, Jake’ll soon sort them out.

He was a momma’s boy who would do anything for his mother in a heartbeat. The first time Jake had taken you home to meet his parents you were amazed at how quickly this big, macho Lieutenant transformed into a sweet, southern gentleman for his mom. It became an inside joke between yourself and his father.

He was an amazing cook. Date number three was when Jake had invited you back to his place and wowed you with an array of tapas style dishes, making a game out of it and asking you to score every one out of ten. His usually confident smile had turned surprisingly shy when you raved about each one and rated well above ten.

But was a hater of dips. ‘I have a perfectly fine room-temperature potato chip,’ he would argue, ‘why would I go and ruin that with a cold dip that’s gonna kill the flavour completely of said room-temperature potato chip?’

Jake Seresin was many things… but quiet wasn’t one of them.

Which is why you were confused when he didn’t laugh at the gag on ‘That 70’s Show’, which happened to be one of his favourite sitcoms. Instead he stared at the wall behind the TV, fork resting in his bowl of pasta from when he had gone to take another mouthful… and then hadn’t.

“Jake?” Your voice seemed to snap him out of his daze as his head shot to face you, instantly planting a smile on his face when his eyes met yours.

“Hm?”

“You okay?” An emotion that didn’t fit with the smile he was currently sporting flew through his eyes at your question.

“Better than okay, baby.” With that he turned back to face the TV and resumed his eating, ignoring your look of concern as you kept your eyes on him for a moment longer before finally following suit.

He didn’t speak for the rest of the episode, and remained quiet into the next.

So, no, it wasn’t like Jake talked twenty-four seven. But this type of quiet… this was different. It was the vacant look in his eyes that had you wondering.

As much as you wanted to question him further, you knew he would talk to you when he was ready.

And maybe he was.

You made a move to reach over the coffee table to grab the two now abandoned dinner plates and begin the clean up. When you stood and turned away from the couch his voice stopped you from moving any further.

“Do you think I’m an asshole?”

When you turned back to face him he was staring once again at the wall behind the TV.

“What?”

He sighed and leant his forehead against his fist before finally turning his head to you and repeating his question, quieter this time, “Am I an asshole?”

You stood frozen in your spot, eyes narrowing at his question, “No… you’re not an asshole. What makes you ask that?”

Jake bit at his lip and turned away from you, pulling yourself out of your trance. You placed the plates back on the coffee table and returned to your seat next to him, sitting criss-cross on the sofa.

He stayed facing away from you and nodded to himself, “I’m an asshole.”

“What’s going on, Jake?” You reached out to lightly pull at his forearm, enticing him to turn to you.

When his eyes met yours your concern only grew. His eyes were usually full of life and happiness, now, they seemed to hold hurt.

“Please tell me what’s going on.”

“Phoenix has always thought I was. And now the whole group does. Thought that from the first time they met me. Two weeks ago,” he was rambling a bit, as he did when he was a bit worked up but you let him continue, trying to pick up on what the issue was, “I don’t even know what I did that night but everyone made up their minds apparently. And Bradshaw didn’t help the cause.”

You knew his history with Lieutenant Bradshaw was rocky. And you knew a lot of it stemmed from insecurity, mostly on Jake’s part.

He took a deep breath before continuing, “I said something dumb today.”

His eyes darted from yours to all over the room, “Something fuckin’ dumb. In front of everyone. That I shouldn’t have said and I knew I shouldn’t have said, but I did. And now everyone hates me, well… more. Even fuckin’ Javy told me off. Can you believe that? Javy, of all people.”

As long as you’d known Jake, you’d known Javy. And he had always had Jake’s back. So that revelation was actually a little surprising.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you before you decided to speak up softly, “What did you say?”

This time when he met your eyes you saw remorse and guilt, “Bradshaw… his parents are, you know,” dead, “And I found out that his old man was Maverick’s WSO, and was flying with him when his dad… you know.”

“Okay…?” You trailed off, not really knowing where this was going.

He rubbed harshly at his eyes as if he was trying rub away the memory, “And I… Jesus fucking Christ. I told everyone. Right in the middle of training. Just… laid it all out there. Like it was my story to tell.”

Oh shit.

“He launched at me, he was ready to kill me. Fair enough too. And I, I kept going. Kept poking the fuckin’ bear.” He took a deep breath, “Everyone jumped in, pulled us apart. Mav dismissed us. But God if looks could kill.”

So that’s why he was home before you today.

“Why’d you say it?” You asked after a moment. Jake closed his eyes at your question and shook his head.

“Because I’m an asshole? I don’t know. I don’t know why I said it.”

You had a pretty good idea as to why he said it, “I think you do know why you said it, Jake.”

He looked helpless and downright embarrassed at your words.

Jake was the best of the best. That wasn’t an exaggeration nor a secret. He worked tirelessly to get his skill level to where it was today. And that had meant accidentally burning some bridges along the way, resulting in not too many friendships.

Rooster on the other hand, while also an incredibly skilled pilot, had a habit of being loved everywhere he went. He was a very popular man. And that irked Jake something terrible.

Jake was jealous.

And the thought of his skill set potentially being overlooked because of some weird form of aviator nepotism? That didn’t sit well with him at all.

“I’m such an asshole.”

“You need to apologise to Rooster.” You offered gently, resting your hand on his shoulder.

He nodded, “I know. Fuck I know. But how do you apologise for something like that?”

His eyebrows scrunched together when he looked at you.

“You just… do. You need to mean it, and I know you do. Leave it tonight, but tomorrow. You need to talk to him.”

“Bet you think I’m a shitty person now, huh?”

There it was again, the insecurity.

You shook your head at his statement and took his hand, rubbing your thumb across the back of it, “Jake I know you. Better than anyone in that group. You’re not an asshole, I wouldn’t be here if you were. But you do need to work on letting people in, and acknowledging other people’s skills.”

He made a move to cut you off but you got in first, “Have you told Phoenix how in awe of her flying you are?”

His mouth snapped shut at that.

He’d raved about her skills years ago when they were deployed together, and again since they’d been training together over the past few weeks.

“It wouldn’t hurt to start acting like you care.”

“I do care!”

“I know that. I know you care too much. But Jake, you don’t always have to be this big macho man. No one’s going to think any less of you.”

He laced his fingers with yours and squeezed tightly, head tilted back as he took in what you were saying.

“God, you could do so much better than me.”

You smiled softly at the side of his face before leaning in to kiss his cheek, “I don’t want anyone else but you.”

The light red that dusted his cheeks made you grin. You wrapped both your arms around one of his and snuggled in closer, resting your head on his shoulder, revelling in the kiss he pressed to your hair.

It was a while before Jake spoke up again, “What if he won’t talk to me? What if he, what if everyone, actually hates me now?”

You felt your heart break for your partner. Nevermind the awards he got. Nevermind the records he set. Jake Seresin just wanted companionship. He’d found that with you and Javy, and he wanted that with his squad. He wanted what they already had with each other.

“You can only try, Jake. He’ll probably be pissed, rightfully so. But you have to try.”

You felt his head nod against his, “I will.”

Turning your head slightly you kissed his clothed shoulder, “I love you, Jake Seresin.”

“I love you too. So much.”

Jake Seresin was many things.

Above all else he was simply human.

[obsessedasusual]

Tig Trager, Season 3 Episode 1, SO - “Relax, Tiggy. I don’t want you to go down on me. I’m just tired of talking to myself.” “I knew that.”

[obsessedasusual]

MAYANS MC, season 3 episode 4

[obsessedasusual]

…merry christmas?🫣🫣

History Repeats - Happy Lowman

Summary: xReader - The club going into lockdown shouldn't be of concern to you anymore, you got out. Happy thinks otherwise.

Warnings: Swearing, guns, mentions of anxiety

Note: 2k - return of the Happy!!! The way I've had this half written in my docs for over a year...... I'm beyond excited to finally get it out!

You had locked the door last night.

You had.

Surely you had locked it. You always locked it.

So the only reasonable explanation to the creaking floorboards down your hallway at 6am was… a cat? Yeah, a cat.

A very heavy cat that took large footsteps towards your room.

You gripped the bedsheets tighter as you pulled them further over your face, hoping they would act as some sort of a shield when the large cat, presumably walking on two legs, inevitably barged into your room. 

Another shaky breath escaped your body as you listened to the footsteps draw nearer.

Calling the cops was a bit difficult when your phone was charging over the room on your dresser. And it’s not like you had a weapon handy. God you could hear his voice clear as day in your head, knowing exactly what he’d say if he were here. Harping on about how you should at least have a knife stashed somewhere in your bedroom and a gun in every other room of the house.

You stayed frozen in place, eyes squeezing shut as the door handle turned, and the door was thrown open without an ounce of care.

“Get the fuck up.” a gruff voice spoke from the doorway.

What the?

You tugged the covers down to your chin and peered across the room in disbelief, “What the fuck, Happy?!”

He gave a single nod before speaking again, “Up. Now.”

Mouth hung open, you could do nothing but stare up at your ex.

“No? No- what the hell are you doing here, Happy? In my house at six in the fucking morning!” Pushing yourself to sit up in bed you continued to stare at the man you hadn’t spoken to in months, “Seriously, Happy. Start speaking. How the hell did you get in here anyway? If you broke a fucking window I swear to-”

“You need to hide your spare key better. Now get up.”

A silence fell between you for a second.

“My spare ke- hey!” your train of thought was interrupted by the tall biker walking forward and ripping the duvet away from your body. In your surprise you didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly flew down your pyjama-clad body before looking toward the still-closed curtains.

“Get your ass out of bed.”

This time you listened and climbed out of bed, stomping toward your dresser to find a change of clothes, “Seriously, Happy,” you huffed as you changed shirts, “You can’t- you can’t barge into my house like this. I thought you were a burglar or something. Do you realise how unsettling that is for a single woman?”

“Good thing I’m not a fucking burglar then.”

You tugged on a pair of jeans and rolled your eyes before turning to face him, “Why are you here, Happy? Seriously?”

He met your gaze only briefly before turning back to the windows and peeping out the curtain, “I need you to pack a bag. Change of clothes. Book probably too.”

Eyebrows pulling together in confusion you stared at the back of his head, “A book? Happy. What’s going on?”

“Club’s on lockdown.”

Your confusion only grew, “A lockdown? Jesus, Happy,” you dragged your hands over your face. “What does that have to do with me? Why do I have to get dragged away too.”

He turned and met your eyes properly then, “You know why.”

Breaking his stare you faced the carpet, “Happy… this is… fucking dumb. What the fuck happened? We have been done since months ago. I’m in no danger. In fact - I’m probably in more danger with you here.”

“I’m not arguing with you. Pack a bag. We’re going.”

This wasn’t supposed to be how your Saturday went. You had left these sorts of Saturdays in the past. The uncertainty, the danger, all of it had been left the day you left the man currently standing in your bedroom seven months ago.

With only a defeated sigh in response you shrugged, counting your losses and turned back to your drawers, pulling out a couple of changes of clothes and stuffing them into a nearby backpack.

When you turned back toward Happy you found him already staring your way. Quickly breaking eye contact you dramatically gestured out the bedroom door, “After you.”

He stared for a moment longer before moving out the door, you following diligently.

“Okay,” you started as you reached the front door, “I’ll meet you there.”

The speed at which Happy spun around to face you would almost be comical if it wasn’t for the death glare that graced his face, “Like hell. You’re coming with me.”

You threw your hands up in frustration, “Happy, c’mon! You’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re coming with me.”

Taking a deep breath to stop whatever snarky remark that was about to escape your lips you nodded, “Fine. Whatever. Can I at least have breakfast before we go?”

“There’s food at the club. Let’s go.” WIthout another word he was out the door and striding toward his bike, leaving you to lock the door and tuck your key - both keys - away in the backpack. Following after the biker you grabbed the helmet from his outstretched hand and tugged it on.

You jumped in fright when the Harley roared to life, catching the way Happy’s shoulders jostled as he chuckled.

Sighing heavily at the situation you were faced with you begrudgingly climbed on behind your ex and secured your hands on his waist.

“You good?” he grunted over his shoulder.

“Just go.”

The wind rushing at you as Happy took off down the street felt like a thousand memories you had fought to forget just slapping you in the face all at once.

The smell of being on the Harley was something you hadn’t realised you’d come to miss. Was it the smell of the rubber? The fumes from the exhaust? The scent of the man in front of you?

No, it was definitely the fumes from the exhaust.

-

Pulling into the Teller Morrow lot was when the weight of what was happening really set in.

More bikes than usual were lined up at the ready, people with children were piling out of cars, sleeping bags in hand, and food was being unloaded left and right, with guns being handled ‘discreetly’ by the Sons.

It had been many months since you had stepped foot near the club. And just as many since you’d spoken to any of the Sons. Well, bar Juice who you’d seen at the store a few weeks back. To say you were nervous would be an understatement. 

As Happy slowed to a stop, signalling for you to jump off before he backed his bike in line with the others, you swore you could feel a million eyes on you. It was as if everyone on the property was staring at you. 

This wasn’t the case of course. With the feeling of danger and caution in the air everyone was worried about their own loved ones and whatever job they’d been given. Truth be told, you didn’t recognise a lot of the faces around you. So they sure as hell wouldn’t know you from a bar of soap.

Still, no matter the case, the anxiety pooled in your stomach.

Anxiety had always been present in your life. Making itself known first in high school and popping up every now and then when it felt like messing with you.

Happy seemed to pick up on your switch in mood, from angry to anxious and lightly spoke from behind, “Everybody’s busy doing their own thing. You don’t need to stop and talk, just head to the back rooms.”

You nodded at his words, eyes still locked on the scenes unfolding in front of you. You didn’t move until you felt the tattooed man nudge you slightly.

Sticking close to Happy, as much as you’d love to run in the opposite direction, you slowly made your way into the hectic clubhouse. 

It was like stepping back in time, you’d done this exact thing multiple times with Happy, the lockdown. The children running wild inside, a group of hangarounds in the kitchen, families huddling nervously at the walls. 

There had been a time when you’d have gone up to those families with a fresh pot of coffee and some baking, helping to reassure them that it would all be okay. How the tables turn.

As you peererd around you noticed the doors to chapel were open, Sons inside counting guns. Your eyes moved over the men, noting who you recognised, Tig, Bobby and Jax, and who must’ve been from other charters.

Seemingly feeling your gaze on him, Jax turned his head and caught your eyes. With not an ounce of shock or surprise in his stare, he nodded at you with a knowing tight-lipped smile, welcoming you back into this world of chaos.

It wasn’t until you finally reached Happy’s dorm that you let out a deep breath. It was quieter back here, mostly out of bounds unless you had the okay from the members, which you apparently did.

You pushed the door open and were once again hit with an alarming wave of nostalgia. Happy’s dorm looked exactly the same. It was relatively bare, but tidy.

It was too familiar. It felt too normal being back here. Like the last seven months hadn’t happened, like they didn’t matter. 

You could feel yourself getting worked up and turned to face the man you had spent years loving.

He remained standing in the doorway, arms crossed, studying you from his spot.

“Why am I here, Happy? It’s been months. You just turn up at sunrise after months of no contact  to play a knight in shining armour? I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t mean enough to you to warrant being here.”

He just stared at you in silence, like he knew you’d get pissed whether he answered or not.

“I’ve been trying to move on with my life!” You continued, now sitting on the edge of his bed, “I’ve been working so hard to forget everything between us. To forget the fucking club. I just - I just want a normal life. I want to be able to come home after work and relax with my partner. I want to complain about my boss. I want to get annoyed about the ads on TV. I want my biggest problem to be figuring out what’s for dinner each night.”

You took a deep breath and stared down at your lap before admitting, “I just want boring.”

Still frozen in his spot, Happy finally spoke up, “You’d hate boring.”

You gave a dry laugh at his response and looked up at him with defeated eyes, “So what then? I just have to stay stuck in this weird in between?”

A silence fell between you as your words hung in the air. 

Relieved you’d been able to get those thoughts out of your system, you fell back onto Happy’s bed.

The silence lasted so long you wondered if you’d dozed off and he’d snuck out of the room when he spoke up, “Stay in here. I’ll send someone in with food later.”

You closed your eyes and listened as he turned and opened the door, ready to leave and do whatever the Sergeant at Arms does during a lockdown, noting the way his movement paused before he spoke again,

“I’m sorry I had to bring you back here.”

As he left and softly shut the door behind him, the first of your tears finally fell.

[obsessedasusual]

Me: *opens an old WIP*

Also me: *closes the Old WIP because it’s staring daggers at me*

[obsessedasusual]

History Repeats - Happy Lowman

Summary: xReader - The club going into lockdown shouldn't be of concern to you anymore, you got out. Happy thinks otherwise.

Warnings: Swearing, guns, mentions of anxiety

Note: 2k - return of the Happy!!! The way I've had this half written in my docs for over a year...... I'm beyond excited to finally get it out!

You had locked the door last night.

You had.

Surely you had locked it. You always locked it.

So the only reasonable explanation to the creaking floorboards down your hallway at 6am was… a cat? Yeah, a cat.

A very heavy cat that took large footsteps towards your room.

You gripped the bedsheets tighter as you pulled them further over your face, hoping they would act as some sort of a shield when the large cat, presumably walking on two legs, inevitably barged into your room. 

Another shaky breath escaped your body as you listened to the footsteps draw nearer.

Calling the cops was a bit difficult when your phone was charging over the room on your dresser. And it’s not like you had a weapon handy. God you could hear his voice clear as day in your head, knowing exactly what he’d say if he were here. Harping on about how you should at least have a knife stashed somewhere in your bedroom and a gun in every other room of the house.

You stayed frozen in place, eyes squeezing shut as the door handle turned, and the door was thrown open without an ounce of care.

“Get the fuck up.” a gruff voice spoke from the doorway.

What the?

You tugged the covers down to your chin and peered across the room in disbelief, “What the fuck, Happy?!”

He gave a single nod before speaking again, “Up. Now.”

Mouth hung open, you could do nothing but stare up at your ex.

“No? No- what the hell are you doing here, Happy? In my house at six in the fucking morning!” Pushing yourself to sit up in bed you continued to stare at the man you hadn’t spoken to in months, “Seriously, Happy. Start speaking. How the hell did you get in here anyway? If you broke a fucking window I swear to-”

“You need to hide your spare key better. Now get up.”

A silence fell between you for a second.

“My spare ke- hey!” your train of thought was interrupted by the tall biker walking forward and ripping the duvet away from your body. In your surprise you didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly flew down your pyjama-clad body before looking toward the still-closed curtains.

“Get your ass out of bed.”

This time you listened and climbed out of bed, stomping toward your dresser to find a change of clothes, “Seriously, Happy,” you huffed as you changed shirts, “You can’t- you can’t barge into my house like this. I thought you were a burglar or something. Do you realise how unsettling that is for a single woman?”

“Good thing I’m not a fucking burglar then.”

You tugged on a pair of jeans and rolled your eyes before turning to face him, “Why are you here, Happy? Seriously?”

He met your gaze only briefly before turning back to the windows and peeping out the curtain, “I need you to pack a bag. Change of clothes. Book probably too.”

Eyebrows pulling together in confusion you stared at the back of his head, “A book? Happy. What’s going on?”

“Club’s on lockdown.”

Your confusion only grew, “A lockdown? Jesus, Happy,” you dragged your hands over your face. “What does that have to do with me? Why do I have to get dragged away too.”

He turned and met your eyes properly then, “You know why.”

Breaking his stare you faced the carpet, “Happy… this is… fucking dumb. What the fuck happened? We have been done since months ago. I’m in no danger. In fact - I’m probably in more danger with you here.”

“I’m not arguing with you. Pack a bag. We’re going.”

This wasn’t supposed to be how your Saturday went. You had left these sorts of Saturdays in the past. The uncertainty, the danger, all of it had been left the day you left the man currently standing in your bedroom seven months ago.

With only a defeated sigh in response you shrugged, counting your losses and turned back to your drawers, pulling out a couple of changes of clothes and stuffing them into a nearby backpack.

When you turned back toward Happy you found him already staring your way. Quickly breaking eye contact you dramatically gestured out the bedroom door, “After you.”

He stared for a moment longer before moving out the door, you following diligently.

“Okay,” you started as you reached the front door, “I’ll meet you there.”

The speed at which Happy spun around to face you would almost be comical if it wasn’t for the death glare that graced his face, “Like hell. You’re coming with me.”

You threw your hands up in frustration, “Happy, c’mon! You’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re coming with me.”

Taking a deep breath to stop whatever snarky remark that was about to escape your lips you nodded, “Fine. Whatever. Can I at least have breakfast before we go?”

“There’s food at the club. Let’s go.” WIthout another word he was out the door and striding toward his bike, leaving you to lock the door and tuck your key - both keys - away in the backpack. Following after the biker you grabbed the helmet from his outstretched hand and tugged it on.

You jumped in fright when the Harley roared to life, catching the way Happy’s shoulders jostled as he chuckled.

Sighing heavily at the situation you were faced with you begrudgingly climbed on behind your ex and secured your hands on his waist.

“You good?” he grunted over his shoulder.

“Just go.”

The wind rushing at you as Happy took off down the street felt like a thousand memories you had fought to forget just slapping you in the face all at once.

The smell of being on the Harley was something you hadn’t realised you’d come to miss. Was it the smell of the rubber? The fumes from the exhaust? The scent of the man in front of you?

No, it was definitely the fumes from the exhaust.

-

Pulling into the Teller Morrow lot was when the weight of what was happening really set in.

More bikes than usual were lined up at the ready, people with children were piling out of cars, sleeping bags in hand, and food was being unloaded left and right, with guns being handled ‘discreetly’ by the Sons.

It had been many months since you had stepped foot near the club. And just as many since you’d spoken to any of the Sons. Well, bar Juice who you’d seen at the store a few weeks back. To say you were nervous would be an understatement. 

As Happy slowed to a stop, signalling for you to jump off before he backed his bike in line with the others, you swore you could feel a million eyes on you. It was as if everyone on the property was staring at you. 

This wasn’t the case of course. With the feeling of danger and caution in the air everyone was worried about their own loved ones and whatever job they’d been given. Truth be told, you didn’t recognise a lot of the faces around you. So they sure as hell wouldn’t know you from a bar of soap.

Still, no matter the case, the anxiety pooled in your stomach.

Anxiety had always been present in your life. Making itself known first in high school and popping up every now and then when it felt like messing with you.

Happy seemed to pick up on your switch in mood, from angry to anxious and lightly spoke from behind, “Everybody’s busy doing their own thing. You don’t need to stop and talk, just head to the back rooms.”

You nodded at his words, eyes still locked on the scenes unfolding in front of you. You didn’t move until you felt the tattooed man nudge you slightly.

Sticking close to Happy, as much as you’d love to run in the opposite direction, you slowly made your way into the hectic clubhouse. 

It was like stepping back in time, you’d done this exact thing multiple times with Happy, the lockdown. The children running wild inside, a group of hangarounds in the kitchen, families huddling nervously at the walls. 

There had been a time when you’d have gone up to those families with a fresh pot of coffee and some baking, helping to reassure them that it would all be okay. How the tables turn.

As you peererd around you noticed the doors to chapel were open, Sons inside counting guns. Your eyes moved over the men, noting who you recognised, Tig, Bobby and Jax, and who must’ve been from other charters.

Seemingly feeling your gaze on him, Jax turned his head and caught your eyes. With not an ounce of shock or surprise in his stare, he nodded at you with a knowing tight-lipped smile, welcoming you back into this world of chaos.

It wasn’t until you finally reached Happy’s dorm that you let out a deep breath. It was quieter back here, mostly out of bounds unless you had the okay from the members, which you apparently did.

You pushed the door open and were once again hit with an alarming wave of nostalgia. Happy’s dorm looked exactly the same. It was relatively bare, but tidy.

It was too familiar. It felt too normal being back here. Like the last seven months hadn’t happened, like they didn’t matter. 

You could feel yourself getting worked up and turned to face the man you had spent years loving.

He remained standing in the doorway, arms crossed, studying you from his spot.

“Why am I here, Happy? It’s been months. You just turn up at sunrise after months of no contact  to play a knight in shining armour? I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t mean enough to you to warrant being here.”

He just stared at you in silence, like he knew you’d get pissed whether he answered or not.

“I’ve been trying to move on with my life!” You continued, now sitting on the edge of his bed, “I’ve been working so hard to forget everything between us. To forget the fucking club. I just - I just want a normal life. I want to be able to come home after work and relax with my partner. I want to complain about my boss. I want to get annoyed about the ads on TV. I want my biggest problem to be figuring out what’s for dinner each night.”

You took a deep breath and stared down at your lap before admitting, “I just want boring.”

Still frozen in his spot, Happy finally spoke up, “You’d hate boring.”

You gave a dry laugh at his response and looked up at him with defeated eyes, “So what then? I just have to stay stuck in this weird in between?”

A silence fell between you as your words hung in the air. 

Relieved you’d been able to get those thoughts out of your system, you fell back onto Happy’s bed.

The silence lasted so long you wondered if you’d dozed off and he’d snuck out of the room when he spoke up, “Stay in here. I’ll send someone in with food later.”

You closed your eyes and listened as he turned and opened the door, ready to leave and do whatever the Sergeant at Arms does during a lockdown, noting the way his movement paused before he spoke again,

“I’m sorry I had to bring you back here.”

As he left and softly shut the door behind him, the first of your tears finally fell.